


come get up, my baby

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Canon Queer Relationship, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Kink Meme, Love, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Thank God We're Alive! Sex, Top Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Room unheated, tactical gear still on, shoes bumping knees bumping thighs, sleep catching them in its web from one blink of an eye to the other. Those times, the closeness comes like a freight train, like sinking into each other's warmth so utterly, Nicky can hardly believe they've ever been apart.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 46
Kudos: 352





	come get up, my baby

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/953.html?thread=31417#cmt31417) Kink Meme prompt: _Every death could be the last one. Sometimes they need to affirm they're still breathing._
> 
> Title from "Golden Years" by David Bowie.

Sometimes, downtime means a warm bed in temperate weather and running water and time enough to stick close to each other, enough that the time they couldn't indulge during missions gets swept completely out of their heads.

Other times, it's falling over each other, barely hitting the bed. Room unheated, tactical gear still on, shoes bumping knees bumping thighs, sleep catching them in its web from one blink of an eye to the other. Those times, the closeness comes like a freight train, like sinking into each other's warmth so utterly, Nicky can hardly believe they've ever been apart. That there's ever been a time when they weren't together is unfathomable to him.

And sometimes there's a close call, a death lasting far too long, seconds like centuries. He carries those moments around like he carries Joe's heart (cradled in his own), but a seed of fear taking root to grow a tree of terror that whispers to him _it could be his last_ is different—poisonous and vile and wretched. And it sinks deep into his chest, the fear, deeper than anything but his love ever should.

He wishes to be gentle always, but that cold frisson drives him to clutch and to bite and to scratch—and Joe lets him. Allows his thighs to be parted roughly, though Nicky presses dry lips to his knees in apology once he's made room for himself.

When he sinks inside, it's like coming home. It should be trite, waxing poetic about slick heat around his cock, as if this is all they are, as if it's ever been the first or the tenth or even the hundredth thing Nicky loves about them. But it's the warmth he's after, that deathless comfort he seeks.

It's Joe's quiet pleasure, his joyful smile even as he's gasping and moaning and squeezing around him, which quiets Nicky's own jackrabbiting heart. Arms reaching up for him to draw him closer. A press of cheek against cheek. The heat of their bodies never comes close to what he feels blooming inside his chest, but, sometimes, it's what he needs as affirmation.

Joe whispers, "Let go," and _he does_. Over and over and _over_ again.

He lets the fear go and lets his love flow back in.

**Author's Note:**

> THE FEELS ARE REAL
> 
> (Kudos and comments are all greatly appreciated.)
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


End file.
